I still don't do spiders

The group we have staying with us at the moment is a group of 9 women from the Detroit area. With them and the two interns being girls, I am, by default, the man of the house for the next week. They have dubbed me the security guard, as I am trained in hand to hand combat. Taken to my new position with great pride, tonight when I heard cries coming from the main room, I hastily came to their aid to find them battling a cockroach. Having spent several years in the bowels of Holmes hall, I had lost any sensitivity I may have once felt toward cockroaches. I made quick work of the foul vermin, taking his life with a little Jesus statue that I found sitting on a windowsill. Tonight we found that Jesus truly does save us, not only from sin and death, but cockroaches, too.

The murder weapon.

Literally moments after disposing of the eviden- er, carcas- er... dead cockroach, I hear cries, reporting a new, far fouler and more dangerous foe: "Ah, that's a big spider!"

....

Now, if you've ever met me and spent any time with me, you may quickly come to the knowledge that I do not take too kindly to spiders. My typical reaction to seeing a spider being a little something like:

In more recent years, I've become calmer and more collected when dealing with the most vile of God's creatures, but they still have a special place in my heart as a manifestation of pure evil and all that is wrong in this world. But I am the man of this house. It is my right, my privilege, nay, my Duty to defend these poor, helpless lasses from the dangers of the night. So I calmly walked to the counter, grabbed half a roll of paper towels off the roll, and confronted the intruder. I confidently approached, raised my paper weapon for attack... AND..... 

"Nope. Can't do it. Nope. I'm out."

One of the ladies killed it. I will now attempt to sleep. Unlikely.